I'll stop the Whole world from turning into a monster!
by Chasey-gryffindor221B
Summary: (All the names in this story, are the actual names of my friends) Louise lives in District 7, but she isn't like everyone else; while they're strong, quick and energetic, Louise likes to read, and only do exercise when she has to. It's the 73rd Annual Hunger Games that year. Fears run high, and who knows what'll happen?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing about this story, apart from a few plot ideas. Some (if not all) the characters are named after people at my school, and if you are reading this guys, (I'm sorry if you don't like your end; it has nothing to do with how I see you personally!) **

**This fan-fiction is based on the hunger Games trilogy, written by Suzanne Collins, and the title is made up of lyrics of the paramore song 'monster' (which is featured on the Transformers 3 soundtrack)**

**This fan-fiction is also on my Quotev account.**

* * *

I walk down the dirty streets, my book in hand, while the wind and the rain decided to give me a beating. This was a normal sight for me; I prefer reading and writing, than to run around in the dirt and have 'fun' as other people call it.

But, why would you call it fun? Would you call the Games fun? No, so why do you say that kids running around in the dirt and mud of District 7 is 'fun'?!

My walk then turns into a jog, as the rain begins to pour harder, and within seconds, my ginger hair was plastered to my head. I hug the book to my chest, and bee-line for home, located in one of the poorest parts of D7. I say that, but we all know, that the only two Districts poorer than us, are 11 and 12. There are no upsides, that I can think of for this place, the houses are barely standing, made out of corrugated iron, like old Anderson shelters from an old war hundreds, if not thousands of years ago.

I turn left, and bolt down the street, before running up to my house, and almost flying through the doorway. Not many people can afford to have a wooden door added, and some only have one, due to the fact that they stole the wood. Not many people get away with it though, most get hung, or shot by the Peacekeepers in the town square, with the entire district watching. It's horrible. They survive the reapings, only to get murdered by the ones who try to keep order. Keep fear, is more like it.

I enter, and quickly remove my soaking boots and jacket, before heading directly to my room, and jumping on my bed; the pile of rags on the floor. No one is home; as my brother is always at a friends, and my parents work a stupid amount of hours, to feed the four of us, though they give more to my brother.

You see, he's the prized one; sporty, a brilliant runner and thrower, and strong. While me, on the other hand. I can barely pick up an axe, let alone chop down a tree with it, and I cannot run more than 100 feet, before become tired and needing to stop. And because we need to focus on buying food, rather than things to decorate the home, we only have two beds. One, my parents share, and the other, is my brothers. My parents had a heated discussion when I turn 6 about that, and I drew the short straw for it.

It's not comfortable, but when you're tired, you don't question it. Falling asleep on a pile of old baby clothes and ruined pieces of fabric is better than sleeping on the freezing metal floors, or outside, ready to die.

I shake the memory from my head, and while sitting cross-legged on the fabrics, I open the book and begin reading, not caring about the consequence that my wet hair will bring.

I read in silence for an hour, before I hear my father's heavy footsteps trudge in, through the entrance to our home. My eyes go wide, and I hide the book under a pile of rags I use as a pillow; he hates me reading, and is always trying to get me out into the world. I then proceed to stand up, and head into the kitchen.

In there, my father stands, wetter than I must've been, and holding a small amount of food. He doesn't make eye contact with me, and as normal, pretends that I don't even exist. I stand straight, with my head high, and I speak as quietly as I dare.

"Good evening, father." I say, and he places the food on three tiny plates, in unequal portions. "Is there anything you would like me to do?"

He stops and brings his head up, so that he is facing me. His eyes show so much disappointment, and it kills me inside, to know that I am always disappointing him. Even though I don't do it intentionally. "Yes, actually." He replies, and I hold my breath, as when he wants me to do something; it's never usually nice. "Go down to the square, there might be something that interests you there."

His tone scares me, so I nod, showing that I heard him, before turn back to the rain, placing my boots on once more, and heading there at top speed.


	2. Chapter 2

I reach the square covered in mud, as I slipped over several times on the way here. The mud is always the worst around our 'house' so I'm the one at school who is always called a 'Pig', due to the way I look when covered in the stuff. But that's not what I'm talking about now.

The square was full with people, both rich and poor. Apart from the Reapings every summer, both classes only congregate here for one reason only; somebody is going to get executed.

I am located near the back, and I can't see a thing over the heads of all these muscular people. I look around at my immediate surrounds, using my brain to find an easy solution so that I can see. My eyes linger on a tree, and I know that it's the only way for me too see.

Huffing in anger, I make my way over there, and begin climbing. This tree has plenty of spaces for me to use as foot holds, so in no time at all, even with my weak strength, I manage to get myself higher than the heads of the crowd, giving me a view of the platform.

My heart plummets to the floor, as I realize who is next to bite the bullet. The brunette hair, and emerald green eyes are filled with tears, looking around the crowd on her knees. My best friend Jess.

My breathing stops, and the world becomes distant, as Jess lowers her gaze to her knees, and the gun in pressed to her temple by a peacekeeper. The crowd goes silent, and even over all the rain, the gun shot is clearly heard. I don't do anything, and no sound leaves my lips as she slumps to the ground, lifeless, and eyes unseeing.

Within seconds, the crowd leaves, and I am no exception. I lower myself to the ground and walk away, still grieving for Jess.

The rain eventually dies down, and I just take to walking around the streets aimlessly, with my head down. I don't care where I go, I just silently beg for my friend back. She was one of the only two I had in the world, the two that kept my sane; not self-harming, but now, she can't help me any longer.

I don't look up for a while, until I hear the rushing of thousands of litres of water before me. I glance up, and see that I have walked to the river that runs through the birch tree woods. I sit at the edge of the rapids, taking off my shoes and letting my feet dangle in the water, just as the tears begin.

I cry my heart out, sobbing loudly, knowing that no-one will come; they'll be consolidating Jessica Nutt's parents and her two siblings Vicky and William. They're too young to know about death, but they will know that their older sister won't be coming home any more.

I sob my way through the night, but I must've fallen asleep at some point, as I'm being shaken awake by a kid from school. Katharine Gould, my other (and now only) friend in the world was shaking my shoulders. I opened my eyes and saw that she had a concerned look on her face.

"Oh my God, Louise!" She cried, pulling me into a crushing hug. "I saw what happened to Jess, and I... I..." she cuts herself off and pulls away. I see now, that her expression has softened, and that tears are now desperate to start falling down her face.

Katharine looks me over and her eyes widen. "Have you been out here all _night?!_" I nod, and rise to my feet, as she also stands.

"Yeah." I sigh. "To be honest, I lost track of time. Especially considering what today is."

"I know..." Katharine replies, looking out into the woods on the other side of the river. "How many times is your name in?" She asks me. Inside, I cringe; the number is one I try not to think about.

"Thirty-five." I say, a little disheartened. Katharine nods in understanding.

"I've got twenty-nine." she says after a while. "But, there is a good chance that neither of us will be chosen."

I turn around and start heading back to the house, which I reach in less than five minutes. There, standing on the path that lead up to the front of the house, was my dear family. Father was wearing an expression of anger, while mother and my younger brother Jack wore looks of understanding and sorrow. I nod at them, and we all go inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Mother had run me a bath of cold water (as we had no ways of heating it up) and I slipped in. I was custom of the children of the reaping to look as presentable as they could, so this morning, no child would be playing in the mud, but sitting in baths, or hugging their family; hoping that it isn't the last time they would.

After washing my hair as best I could, I hop out, dry off and head into my shared room. My brother doesn't have to worry about the Reaping for two years yet, and it's the Quarter Quell on his first...

Ignoring that thought, I turn and see the outfit my mother has left for me to wear today. The simple two colour dress was my mothers when she was my age (I've heard the story countless times) and the boots were old hunting ones that have been handed down for generations. I slip them on, and head into the communal room (it's what we have instead of a living room) and I just stand there. Nobody there knows that I've taken the extra food, and they think that my name is only in there, three times, not thirty-five.

My mother eventually sees me standing there, and envelops me in a gigantic hug. When she pulls away, I see tears brimming in her eyes as she looks me over. Her normal brunette hair is no longer its normal tidy state, but is messy and discoloured.

"Louise, darling." she said, choking on her words to stop herself breaking down. "You look beautiful! That dress suits you perfectly."

I smile, knowing that she made a good choice, and she stands back. My mother then takes something off from around her neck and hands it to me. She places it in my right hand, and closes my fingers around it, keeping eye contact. "Your Aunt wore this on Reaping day when she was 14, and I hope that it serves you as much luck as it did to her."

"Thank you, mother." I reply, deeply touched by her words. I push my glasses further up my nose, and I look at the clock; 11am, it reads.

"Time for you to go, my little bookworm." My mother whispers, and I can't help but run to her for a hug and start crying my eyes out.

"Why do we all have to do this, mother?" I ask, between sobs and sniffles, "Why must we send 23 kids to their death each and every summer?"

She sighs and pulls away. "I know you don't like it, Louise." she says, soothingly. "But just four more times, and you never have to worry about it ever again." I nod, and she wipes a tear from my cheek. I hold my head high, and walk out the doorway, onto the path, and up to the justice hall.

* * *

When I arrive, though it is still early, the square is buzzing with families and Peacekeepers. The 12 to 18-year olds are making their way over to be checked in, and their families are standing around, anticipation and fear written over their exhausted faces.

I make my way to the back of the queue to check in, and while I waited, I opened my hand, to look at what my mother had given me.

Tears sprung to my eyes again, as I saw the design. The familiar crystal tear-drop shape, the metallic chain that had lots of history behind it. This necklace indeed WAS my Aunt's and her district token in the 50th hunger Games. I remember my parents showing my the video. She didn't even survive the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

I undo the clasp and place the necklace around my neck, so the crystal design sat on top of my dress.

My outfit: /louise_reaping/set?id=90142858

It was only around ten minutes, before I had to check in. I quietly moved up to the desk, and the Peacekeeper behind it.

"Hand." She said in a demanding tone, and I did as I was told, holding out my right hand. She grabbed my wrist slightly hard and pulled my arm closer to her. Then, she picked up the tiny device that I didn't like, and pricked my finger with it.

I hate needles with my entire heart, so every year, I have to stop myself from screaming when the tiny electronic shock goes through my hand, drawing blood.

With blood forming on my finger, the Peacekeeper then shoved my hand onto the large book lying open on the table. My finger (that had the blood on it) was pressed onto the crisp pages, and it left an imprint there. The woman then used a scanner to do something or other, while I drew my hand away, and placed my finger in my lips, hoping to stop the bleeding soon.

The scanner beeps, and shows the Peacekeeper something. She looks at it, before looking at me "Louise Chase; age 14?" she asks, and I nod.

"Move along." She said impatiently, and as I moved away she shouted "Next!" to the next possible tribute.

Other Peacekeepers directed me to where I had to stand, with all the other 14-year-old girls. As Katharine was only 13, I wouldn't be able to stand with her until the end of the Reaping.

An hour later, and the entire square was full to bursting point as all the children from the entire district 7 stood waiting anxiously. Many held their friends close, or were hugging onto their family on the side lines, if they were that lucky. I however, stood there, balancing on my feet, a sickening feeling rising inside me, and becoming stronger with each passing second.

Then without warning, the doors to the justice building opened, and out stepped Johanna Mason, a victor from around six years ago, the Mayor and the escort; Jackson Lincoln the fourth. Johanna and the mayor took their seats at the back of the stage, and Jackson made his way to the microphone.

He tapped it twice eagerly, before receiving slight feedback, and started talking into it, in his usual and stupid Capitol accent. "Welcome, District Seven, to the Seventy-Third annual hunger Games!" He addressed, and he smiled wide as he finished.

After waiting a few moments for the applause that never came, Jackson continued. He began talking about the history of Panem, which we ALL knew as it was mandatory to learn, before the wind picked up slightly, and his silver and blue hair was brushed all over the place. He hastily fixed his hairdo, before speaking into the microphone. "So let's pick some tributes to honour that history! Let's start with the Ladies, then, shall we?"

He walked over to one of the two large, glass domes that held the thousands of girls names, and each and every person here held their breath as Jackson Lincoln plunged his hand in, rummaged around, and finally pulled out a piece of folded paper, with the unlucky girl's name on.

He held the paper up, so that everyone could see it clearly, and walked back to the microphone.  
Jackson then, unfolded it, and spoke two words that would change everything:

"Katharine Gould!" He called, and I felt my mouth (and my heart) sink to the floor. The girl standing to my left - I think that her name is Kia Gates, or something like that - gave me a quick look. Her face showed relief for herself, but worry and sorrow that was aimed at me. I just stared at the black haired girl creeping through the crowds, and just before my best friend reached the edge of the lines, I held my head high, looked to those standing on the stage and I called out as loud as I could.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I shouted, and everyone's eyes turned to me. Many showed disbelief. "I volunteer for Katharine Gould." I stated, and I saw two Peacekeepers divert the girls so that I could walk up to the stage.

I did, and with my head held high, and trying to ignore the gut feeling that said 'you've just written the manner of your death, _bravo(!)_' I walked to the stage, accompanied by four Peacekeepers. As I passed the 13-year old girls, I looked and saw Katharine in tears, being supported by two girls who I knew were called Mollie and Maya. Katharine looked me in the eyes, and she silently thanked me for everything.

I held my hand behind my back as I climbed the stairs, and Jackson walked me over to the microphone.  
Smiling, he talked into the microphone, though to me. "What'ssss your name, darlin'?" He asked, holding on the 'sss' so that he sounded close to a rattle snake.

He held the microphone to my mouth, and I spoke. "Louise chase." I stated, though my voice sounded weak, and desperate. Jackson took the mike back and smiled to the rest of Panem, who would be watching this at some point today or tomorrow. "A beautiful name." He said, "And now, for the boys!" He called, and I saw the boys stiffen.

Like with the girls, Jackson took his time finding a name for the tribute, who would possibly end up killing me. But, before I knew it, Jackson was back, unfolding the piece of paper, and reading out a name.

"James Green." He called, and as one, all the boys turned around to look at the unlucky one. James stood there, mouth agape, as if he couldn't believe his ears. Many girls began crying and one even fainted, but James none the less came walking up the stairs, and was also met my Jackson. The lad was around a year or two older than me, and his flawless brunette hair and emerald green eyes, made him the boy of every girl's dreams. Well, almost every girl's. I've never felt romantic feelings towards ANYONE, and now, I never will. Oh well, minor disadvantage for volunteering to die instead of your best friend.

He guided James to next to where I was standing, and addressed the crowd. "So there you have it; District Seven's tributes for the 73rd annual Hunger Games." He looked to us to and whispered in a slightly harsh tone, "Go on then; shake hands!"

I turned to James as he turned to me, and we both extended our right hands. They met, we kept eye-contact while we shook hands for around five seconds. After that, we turned away, and looked back to the crowd.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Jackson Lincoln shouted to the world, before the anthem of Panem played out of the speakers, and he led the two of us into the Justice building.

_the next hour's going to be fun (!)_ I thought as the doors were slammed closed behind us.


	4. Final goodbyes

James and I were led through the Justice Building, and each escorted to a separate room. The Peacekeeper who walked between the two of us, and kept a strong hold on my arm during that time, opened the door to the left first, and shoved me inside, closing the door afterwards.

I stared at the door as it was closed for a few seconds before actually taking in what had happened. I felt as if someone had poured acid into my stomach, and I just wanted to cry. I was going to die; nothing could be done about that. I ran over to the sofa, jumped onto it, and while face-down, cried my eyes out, being too far in grief to sob or wail.

I didn't even hear the door open, and had no idea that was anyone else in the room, until I felt comforting arms wrap themselves around me in a hug.

I sniffled and looked up, to see my mother there, tears on her face too. She pulled me into a hug as I stood up, and I just sobbed into her shoulder. "Oh my baby girl." She said soothingly. "Don't worry, you'll be fine." She went to say more, but I stopped her.

"no!" I interrupted. "No I WON'T be fine!" I cried and pulled out of the hug, sitting down on the sofa behind me. "I only volunteered because has more of a life to live than me!" I leaned forward onto my knees and sobbed again. I felt my mother sit beside me, and I looked up as she said my name.

"Louise, listen to me." She stated, suddenly serious. I was shocked. I had never seen her serious in my life, yet here we are. "Do not give in. You have the smarts to win this. Remember everything that you've read, that might actually help you."

"But I don't know what the arena will be like!" I say, disheartened.

"That won't matter, you are smart enough to adapt to any environment that they might throw at you." She continued. I looked my mother in the eye, and saw a fire burning there. "Just keep going, and remember, you are strong enough, mentally, to win this thing."

The door swings open, and a Peacekeeper walked in. "Time to go." He stated to my mother, and she unwillingly, stood, gave me one last hug, and was escorted from the room, with the door shut behind them.

I will never see her again, I thought as I heard their footsteps fade away, and I had to stop myself from crying more. I placed my elbows on my knees, and put my head on my hands, and I sat there, staring at the floor for a while until I heard the door open again.

I looked up, and ran straight into her arms. Katharine was there, and looked like she hadn't stopped crying since the reaping, which must've been about an hour ago.

"Katharine, I am SO sorry!" I mumble into her shoulder, as she brings to hug back, and we both stand there, crying on each other. After thirty or so seconds, we pull away and we look each other in the eyes.

"Why are you saying sorry?" Katharine asks me, choking on her words slightly, as tears continued to spill down her face. "You're the on who is going into the arena!"

Just out of pure stress and panic, we both burst out laughing and we only stop when Katharine speaks again.

"You have to win." She whispers, and I look at her as if she is mad. I shake my head, and the positive effects of the laughter have all faded away. I stepped back, and sighed.

"I don't know if I can." I state, and my stomach sinks.

"Just TRY, then. It can't hurt for you to do that." She yells at me, and in surprise, I stumble backwards. She never shouts, so you can see why I am a bit shocked. I open my mouth to reply, but the Peacekeepers have opened the door to the room and are beckoning Katharine out the door. She steals one last, sad look at me, and the Peacekeeper gets frustrated, and literally picks her up and carries her out of the room.

I managed to shout "I'll try for you, Kath." Before the door is slammed shut. It is likely that, Katharine was the last person that would come to see me before I'm shipped off to die, so I just sit back onto the sofa, and wait to be collected.

I don't sit still, though, as something is biting at my brain, and making me worry and I end up pacing, muttering to myself.

"what's the worst that could happen?... Oh yeah, the fact that I have no chance in getting back here, alive... But what if I could? People seem to have faith in me, but why? Nobody has given a damn about me before?.. Was it the volunteering thing?... Yeah, it's probably that. Nobody gives a district about anyone else other than their family, but me? What do I go and do?... Prove that wrong, and save my only friend from certain death.. Well, hers anyway. Why do people have hope in me, if I am one of the definite Bloodbath victims, that will die on the first day?" I think, and my pacing begins to stop, but I begin to get really twichy, and I am constantly glancing over at the door.

After ten minutes, I look at the door, as it is opened the last time, and see that Jackson Lincoln was standing there with James, and without hesitation, I turned over to them and walked over.

Jackson eagerly clapped his hands once, and beckoned for us to follow him. "Good, good." He stated, simply jumping with excitement. "Now, for your information..." He said, talking to us, but still facing ahead as he walked us back through the Justice building, heading for the street before it. "...There is a small car journey to the station, where we will be getting on a train to the Capitol!" He exclaimed, and I tried to smile at his stupid antics. But in all my grief, I couldn't master one, not even a tiny one.

As we exited the building, we were marched to the motor car that was waiting for us were keeping the crowds of District 7 back, and forged us a direct path to the doors, and I saw that cameras were everywhere. In my mind, I was positive on two things. One; this was being broadcast live to the Capitol, and Two; that I looked like a complete weakling, earning no sponsors...

James and I were shoved into the back of the motor car, which was nicer inside than out. The plush leather seats were a level of comfort that I had never experienced before.

Jackson sat in between us, and the doors were locked shut, as the driver started the engine and drove away. I kept my head down through the entire journey, apart from a few seconds, when I decided to look out of the window. It was only for a split second, but I saw everyone I cared about standing around in one place, kissing the central three fingers on their left hands, and holding them high.

_It means thanks; a mark of respect. It's a way of saying goodbye to somebody you love._

_They know as well as I, that I will not be returning. _


End file.
